


Sunday Best

by PetrichorPerfume



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Begging, Biting, Blindfolds, Blood, Claiming, Cruel Lucifer, Dirty Talk, Dom Lucifer, Human Lucifer, Human Michael, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Priest Michael, Running Away, Sub Michael, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 10:58:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6003256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetrichorPerfume/pseuds/PetrichorPerfume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer likes Michael best spread out on his bed, carefully maintained composure absolutely wrecked, hard and begging for him and him alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday Best

Lucifer thinks he likes Michael best like this, all done up in his Sunday best, a tailored violet-black silk suit hugging every subtle angle and each soft curve and a pair of custom brushed leather oxfords click-clicking across the beech wood floorboards of his bedroom as he slicks back his jet-black hair and adjusts his collar.

 

“You look good enough to eat,” Lucifer teases as he fixes his tie into a perfectly crooked eldredge knot that never fails to set his brother’s nerves aflame.

 

“After the service, _brother,_ ” Michael answers, reaching across the dresser to straighten Lucifer’s tie before rewarding him with four and a half tantalizing seconds of beautifully long eyelashes fluttering fleetingly against flawless creamy skin. He then reaches up to tug gently at his clerical collar, allowing his brother the briefest of glimpses of what lie beneath – the perfect tease; the perfect promise.

 

***

 

Michael barely makes it through the door before Lucifer is upon him, slamming him against the entryway wall and tearing away his collar as he sweeps him into a biting kiss. A knee worms its way between his legs despite Michael’s best efforts to keep Lucifer at bay, and he can’t quite bite back a quiet groan as his brother’s thigh brushes against his hardening length.

 

For a few moments, Michael lets himself get caught up in the feel of his brother’s skin against his own, lets himself crave more without retribution, allows himself to get lost in the heady scent of Lucifer’s cologne. Then, almost without warning, except for the fact that Lucifer knows his every tell and braces for it a second before it comes, he pushes the other away _hard_ and turns away as Lucifer stumbles backwards. “Get away from me,” he growls, re-doing the two buttons Lucifer had managed to pop open and stalking away into the kitchen.

 

“But brother dearest,” Lucifer protests as he regains his balance and bounds after Michael, “I thought a good Christian man like yourself should ‘love his family with abandon,’” his brother teases, and Michael sees red. If anyone could find a way to use his sermons against him, it was Lucifer, and he hated it. He hated it all – hated the sin of their skin, hated the way Lucifer wormed his way under his defenses, hated himself for wanting this.

 

“Shut up,” he snarls, allowing his hands to wrap around the edge of the countertop because he doesn’t trust himself not to start throwing punches – and they’ve done that, too, fighting one another over one matter or another until it dissolved into fucking, because Lucifer was sin incarnate and Michael had never been able to resist.

 

Lucifer sidles up behind him, cock settling into the cleft of Michael’s ass in a way that set the eldest’s nerves afire, and oh-so-slowly lets his hands rest atop Michael’s. “Who are you trying to impress with this little show of resistance, hmm?”

 

This time, Michael can’t stop himself; he spins around to slam his fist into his brother’s face but Lucifer sees it coming from a mile away and ducks with plenty of time to spare. Lucifer actually has the nerve to chuckle, and Michael has to remind himself to breathe in order to stop himself from hauling Lucifer up and throwing him into the kitchen wall.

 

Lucifer strikes a pretentious pose and brings one hand up to rest under his chin, tapping one elegant finger against his lips. “My apologies; I should give credit where credit is due. I’m sure you remember that one time a few years back when I brought you to the edge every hour on the hour and you just _refused_ to beg? You managed to last six days – now, that? Impressive.”

 

“Shut up,” Michael repeats, louder this time. He doesn’t want to say something he’ll regret later, because they’ve been there too and as much as he hates Lucifer, he loves him in equal measure and doesn’t want to go through the process of bringing him back from brokenness ever again.

 

Lucifer huffs out a breath of laughter. “Make me.”

 

Something breaks inside Michael – he’s a priest, not a saint, after all – and he surges forward to pin his brother against the wall and draw him into a ravishing kiss. Their clothed cocks brush against one another as Lucifer lewdly slams their hips together and _tears_ at Michael’s shirt, ripping off buttons in the process and making Michael glare at him. Lucifer shrugs unsympathetically and un-does the rest of Michael’s buttons in a more civil fashion before helping his brother shrug out of his shirt and suit jacket and depositing the offending items on a nearby chair.

 

“You know who’s going to be paying the tailoring fees for the shirt you just ruined, right?” Michael asks, and Lucifer has the audacity to laugh in his face.

 

“If you think it’s going to be me, you’re sorely mistaken,” Lucifer replies as he tugs off Michael’s undershirt in one smooth motion, leaving the other bare-chested for his pleasure. He backs Michael against a countertop and starts nipping at his neck, basking in the way Michael’s head obediently tilts to give him better access. Michael is _his_ , and his alone, and someday his brother will realize that.

 

Lucifer reaches between them to palm at Michael’s cock, drawing a few beautiful sounds from his brother’s throat before Michael restrains himself once more and goes stubbornly silent. Lucifer retaliates by biting him – _claiming_ him, some primal part of him supplies – clamping down on the flesh of his neck until he tastes blood and then drawing away and licking up the salty liquid as it beads up atop the shallow wound. Gasping at the suddenness of the bite and undoubtedly at the pain of it, Michael flails in a half-hearted and futile attempt to free himself from Lucifer’s hold.

 

“Lucifer,” Michael gasps, finally giving into the urge to speak his brother’s name. He’d long since come to the conclusion that their father was a madman, not only for naming his second child after the devil, but also for the questionable things he did and the power-hungry people he associated with. That had never stopped him from being the most obedient, loyal son he could possibly be, though, and it had never stopped him from craving the man’s approval. That’s part of the salacious thrill of this, he supposes, the fear of getting caught in bed with his own brother by a man who came and went with absolutely no rhyme or reason whatsoever.

 

“ _Michael_ ,” Lucifer returns teasingly, taking his time undoing the button on Michael’s trousers and slowly dragging the zipper down before reaching in past his boxers to pull Michael’s cock out into the open to play with. It’s obscene, Michael thinks, standing around in the kitchen with his dick jutting out of his pants as Lucifer gently strokes his length. “I bet you want me to blow you,” Lucifer whispers, hand speeding up as Michael starts to thrust into his touch against his will. “Bet you wanna see your little brother on his knees for you, huh?”

 

Michael doesn’t deny it; doesn’t do anything, really, just shuts his eyes and lets himself relish the dry drag of Lucifer’s hand. He’s so close he can taste it, then a hard slap across his face jolts him out of his reverie.

 

“Answer me when I speak to you,” Lucifer growls, gaze molten, and Michael actually whimpers before he can clamp down on the sound.

 

“Yes,” he whispers. “Yes, I’d like that.” His cheeks burn as he admits it, but his cock just hardens impossibly further at the humiliation.

 

Lucifer grins, but his eyes never lose that frightening intensity. “Too fucking bad. You’ll be lucky if I fuck you at the rate you’re going.”

 

Another whimper escapes him, and Michael reaches out to wrap his hand around Lucifer’s wrist. Lucifer raises an eyebrow at the insolence of the gesture, but all thoughts of punishing him for it are chased from his mind when Michael moans for him.

 

“Beg me,” Lucifer demands, pulling Michael away from the counter and backing him down the hallway and into his bedroom. “Beg me to bend you over and fuck you like the whore you are.”

 

Michael groans at the thought, and he stops trying to curb his reactions because he’s already falling into that sweet state of mind where nothing matters but Lucifer, and this, this is what he lives for, this is the part he wishes they could skip to instead of fighting every time they want to fuck, this is the headspace only Lucifer can bring him to; this is his greatest joy, and his cardinal sin. “Please,” he begs, and Lucifer spanks him to show his displeasure.

 

“That’s what you call begging? I _know_ I taught you better than that,” Lucifer says as he opens the door to his bedroom with one hand and all but throws Michael onto the bed. Following, he flips him onto his back and pins him to the mattress. “Now _beg_ for it.”

 

Michael makes a broken little noise and puts up a token struggle, not because he wants to get away but because he knows Lucifer loves to hold him down. “Please, Lucifer, please; please fuck me. I need it – need it so bad, please.”

 

“Fuck,” Lucifer curses, releasing his hold on Michael and grinding their hips together. Michael starts to unbutton Lucifer’s shirt, but his brother stops him with a gentle touch. “Not today,” he says, shaking his head, and Michael groans long and loud.

 

“ _Please_ ,” he whines. “I wanna see you.”

 

“I said, ‘not today,’” Lucifer repeats, pulling at Michael’s nipples in retaliation. Michael arches into the touch, and Lucifer can’t help but smile at his wanton, needy display. He clamors off the bed long enough to pull Michael’s pants down and off, chuckling when his brother makes a greedy little noise at his absence. He removes Michael’s underwear as well and tosses it across the room to be retrieved by a shame-faced Michael later.

 

“You want me to fuck you?” Lucifer asks as he climbs back on the bed, settling down with his elbows on either side of Michael’s hips and his breath just ghosting over his brother’s erection.

 

“Yes, please, you know I do,” Michael pleads, thrusting his hips up in the forlorn hope of getting Lucifer to take him into his mouth. The last time his little brother had given him a blowjob had been as a birthday present, and he misses that perfect mouth and skillful tongue so unspeakably much.

 

Lucifer slaps his cock in response, and Michael _sobs_. “I’m going to take you dry,” he says, and whether it’s a threat or a promise Michael can never tell.

 

Michael keens. “Please, Lucifer; I need you,” he whimpers, but Lucifer just undoes his tie to use as a blindfold and pins Michael’s wrists above his head with an order to keep them there, or else. Temporarily blind and restrained by Lucifer’s will alone, he squirms fitfully and waits for the searing pain he’s almost sure is about to come.

 

Despite his earlier words, Lucifer’s cock is thoroughly lubed when Michael feels it press against his entrance. The lack of preparation means he’ll be sore later, but Lucifer never prepares him so he’s more than used to it. His little brother wants him to remember when they’re intimate for hours, and sometimes even days afterwards. “Say you want it,” Lucifer orders.

 

And Michael is helpless but to obey. “Lucifer,” he moans. “I want it; I need it. Please. Please fuck me.”

 

Lucifer’s teeth sink into the bite mark from earlier in the same moment he buries himself in his brother’s tight heat, and a scream is torn from Michael’s throat. He’s one good stroke away from coming, so he gasps out, “Close,” and blames the fact that he starts to cry when Lucifer pulls out on how far he’s fallen into subspace. “No, no, please, need you, please,” he begs with abandon, not caring how needy or desperate he sounds.

 

“Something’s got you all worked up today,” Lucifer laughs, but he sounds just as breathless as Michael feels and the elder brother knows that seeing him like this turns Lucifer on far more than he usually lets on. “Just think of all the fun we could have with you like this,” he continues, running one long, teasing finger down Michael’s shaft.

 

Michael mewls at the touch and spreads his legs wider, much to Lucifer’s delight. “Please, please, please,” he begs, a desperate mantra he can’t control as his brother’s breath caresses his cock.

 

“Please what?” Lucifer asks.

 

“Please fuck me, touch me, anything,” he whines in response, turning his head and wishing he could see his brother. “Please let me come,” he adds quietly, hoping Lucifer will not punish him for asking.

 

“Today?” Lucifer replies, faking shock. “Hmmm... If you can come just from me fucking you, go right ahead. If not, then perhaps you’ll have better luck tomorrow. But first...” He lines himself up with Michael’s hole and Michael doesn’t dare try to push back no matter how desperately he wants to. “First, tell me who you belong to.”

 

Michael freezes. This is the part that always comes the hardest to him no matter how far fallen he is into his subspace. He is God’s, first and foremost, and then he is their father’s, and-

 

“Tell. Me. Who. You. Belong. To,” Lucifer growls, hot and heavy in Michael’s face. “Tell me now, or I’ll leave you here,” he says, drawing back to sit between Michael’s knees.

 

Michael springs up at that, sitting up so fast it’s dizzying. He doesn’t want Lucifer to leave him, doesn’t think he could handle being needy and used and sore and stretched out and naked alone. “I’m yours,” he says, gasping as Lucifer pushes him back down.

 

“What was that?” Lucifer asks, flicking Michael’s nipples on his ascent up his brother’s body before drawing the other into a brutal kiss. “I didn’t quite hear you,” he lies when they pull away.

 

“I’m yours,” Michael repeats, louder this time. “Yours. All yours. Now, please-”

 

“That’s right,” Lucifer praises. “Mine.” He slams back into Michael, relishing the wail his older brother lets out as he does so and rewarding him with a few well-placed thrusts against his prostate.

 

Michael shudders. “Close,” he chokes out. “Oh, oh, Lucifer, I’m gonna-” He arches off the bed as he comes, shaking through his climax as Lucifer continues to pound into him. His brother isn’t far behind, and Michael gasps at the warm wetness that spreads inside of him to mark Lucifer’s own orgasm.

 

Lucifer all but collapses on top of Michael, who grunts at the sudden weight. “Sorry, sorry,” Lucifer apologizes, shakily drawing himself up onto his elbows and grinning at his brother. He doesn’t pull out right away, which Michael not-so-secretly loves, and they share a lazy kiss as their breathing slowly returns to normal.

 

“I love you,” Lucifer says once they pull away, and Michael hates the hint of hesitation in the other’s voice, hates the uncertainty that he knows he has no one to blame for but himself.

 

“I love you too,” Michael answers earnestly, smiling up at his brother and leaning up to give him the tiniest little peck on the tip of his nose.

 

Lucifer sniffs at the gesture. There is a long moment of silence before either of them speaks again. “Run away with me?” Lucifer begs for what must be the hundredth time.

 

Michael considers it for a while. His head is already clearing, and he knows he has a choice. He can either go back to his life as a priest and the pretense of hating his little brother, or... Or they can run away, and start a brand new life. Together. To be perfectly honest, he’s been considering it for a while, and even though he knows it’s disobedience of the highest order and sin of the most unforgivable nature, he’s not sure how much longer he can say no to Lucifer.

 

Then Lucifer starts tracing the bite mark he’d left on Michael’s neck earlier, and Michael shudders. “What would you do... If I didn’t say no?”

 

Lucifer’s wandering gaze suddenly fixes its full intensity on Michael. “Is that a yes?”

 

Michael takes a deep breath in, holds it, and lets it out slowly just to see the suspense spelled out across Lucifer’s features. “Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am currently taking prompts~


End file.
